I Wanna Hold Your Hand (A YamaYachi Fanfic)

20

Yachi could barely breathe. The air felt too thick and she was suffocating. Well, at least she felt that way.

She was mainly worried about her hands. They were hot and clammy and all the volleyballs she tried to pick up seem to slip out of her grasp, which wasn't a good thing since she was a manager. 

She couldn't look at Yamaguchi either. In fact she did all she could to avoid him during practice, filling up water bottles, listening to Hinata blabber on and on about something, showing the coaches her notes, ANYTHING.

Of course, her heart and mind betrayed her with flickering glances at the middle blocker. She caught her self staring whenever it was his turn in a drill, admiring the way he jumped or how his hair floated down around him afterwards.

'His hair's actually pretty long...'

She glanced at Tsukishima who was besides him and Ennoshita who was giving him tips.

'Longer than theirs at least.'

Zoning out she touched her own short hair which was up in a side pony tail like usual. She wished it was longer, just a little bit. She saw girls at school with gorgeous hair and hers was just.... blonde.

"BAM!"

Yachi yelped, shaken out of her thoughts as a ball slammed onto her ankle. Letting out a hiss she lifted her foot up in pain. In a few seconds flat Sugawara and Kiyoko were quick to check up on the first year, concerned looks on their faces.

"Hitoka, are you ok?"

A terrified ace once again looked at the small blonde in horror, the panic on his face obvious.

"I'm so so so so sorry! Do you need to go to the nurse's? Pain killers?"

Yachi hurriedly shook her head.

"Ah! I'm fine - um don't worry! It was my bad! I should have been paying attention. I'm such a bad managerit'snotyourfaultatallI'msorryfordisturbingpracticeandIwonteverdoitagainI'msos-"

Yachi was cut off by a hand on her shoulder, which led to Yamaguchi, who nervously looked at the two third years.

"I can real quick make sure her foot and ankle is ok, I, uh, I have to tape my fingers anyway."

Much to Yachi's panicking dismay Kiyoko nodded and handed him the first aid kit, and instructed him to check if it would bruise or not and the like. She tottered behind 5'11" boy, slightly hopping on one foot to the chairs on the side lines.

She clenched the seat as she sat down, a slow blush rising to her face. Yamaguchi peered up at her, his gaze careful. 

"Uhm, I'm going to have to take off your shoe and sock, if that's ok with you. Shimizu told me to check for swelling."

Yachi nodded, not speaking. Yamaguchi carefully untied her laces and slid the tennis shoe off, the sock following. He carefully inspected her ankle and foot, and let out a sigh of relief.

"It doesn't look like it's hurt or anything but you're gonna have a nasty bruise."

Yachi let out a small "ok" before closing her mouth in a tight line. She found herself unable to say more, the words getting lodged in her throat. As Yamaguchi put her shoe back on she let out a little hiss at his touch as he accidentally pressed on her forming bruise.

Yamaguchi looked up panicked, his brown hazel eyes full of worry.

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to do that, does it hurt really badly?"

'Crap crap crap crap crap what did I do?' He thought panickily.

Yachi was quick to shake her head and waved her hands.

"Ah! No it's fine, it only hurts a little bit."

Yamaguchi slowly nodded before sitting down next to her and pulling out the medical tape, placing it in her hands. Yachi looked up, confusion written across her face. Yamaguchi scratched at the back of his neck, doubt flickering across his face.

"Could you, um, help me wrap my fingers? I really suck at it..."

Once again all Yachi could do was nod and get to work.

As she did Yamaguchi glanced at her, slowly taking her in as she wrapped his fingers. He couldn't help but once again notice the little things about her, like how she had a freckle or two near her ears, or how her brows knitted together in concentration.

Or how she shifted in her seat, seeming uncomfortable. He remembered how she had been avoiding him lately as well. His heart dropped and Yamaguchi felt dread in his stomach. Did she hate him now because he gave her his jacket? Was she disgusted?

He couldn't help but believe this as he studied her more, and noticed how she seemed to lean away from him. The dread seemingly engulfing him once more and he felt sick. 

"Hey Yachi?"

He tried hard to keep his voice from trembling, and it ended up coming out soft and quiet. Yachi froze and stared at his hands.

"Do you.... do you hate me?"

Her head snapped up and she searched his face, for what though he wasn't sure. Yachi on the other hand traced his expression with her eyes and felt her stomach plummet.

He looked... heart broken. It tugged at her heart and she searched for the correct words to say. She wanted to scream and shout and tell him no, she didn't hate him. Not in the slightest. But the lump in her throat grew bigger and when she opened her mouth no sound came out.

His face fell further and his eyes grew sad.

"I'm... I'm sorry for bothering you..."

He quickly stood up and hurried over to practice, his fingers still only half wrapped. Yachi sat there petrified her heart pounding in her chest. She screamed at herself to move but her feet felt heavy and her nerves buzzed like crazy.

What had she done?

...

When Yachi had gotten home that night, she had dragged herself to her desk. She spared a glance at her mother's sticky note telling her she was going to be out of town for a few days at a business meeting. She stared at the note for a while before mindlessly going to her room.

Her homework already done she got ready for bed and laid down, her mind buzzing. Yamaguchi and her didn't speak or even look at each other for the rest of practice, and by the time she had finished talking with Kiyoko at the very end he had already left.

Tears prickling her eyes and a sick feeling in her stomach she held her pillow and cried, cried about how stupid and scared she was and cried about how much she had messed things up with him. 

She wasn't alone.